All I Have to Give
by MKawaii
Summary: General Cornwallis' niece Emily arrives in Charleston shortly after it's capture, and is met by none other than Colonel Tavington. The Colonel, however, wants nothing to do with her.. but Emily has plans of her own. (in progress.. please R/R!)
1. A Less Than Perfect Meeting

Author's Notes: _This story starts in the summer of 1780, not long after the capture of Charleston. The main characters are Colonel Tavington (yum), Captain Bordon and Emily (the niece of Lord Cornwallis, she's original). Later on Cornwallis himself, General O'Hara and Ban Tarleton will also be involved :)_   
  
_Mm.. that's it for now. More notes later as required. Hope you enjoy! Feel free to review._   
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**Chapter 1- A Less Then Perfect Meeting**

  
A cool, salty June breeze was blowing in off the water as Emily stepped down the gang-plank of the British sloop that had carried her to the Colonies. She secured the skirts of her modest, light blue dress with one hand to keep them under control and held the matching bonnet on her head with the other hand, not wanting to lose it in the wind.   
  
Two servants and one of the ship's crew were hastily unloading her personal baggage. She winced as one case landed on the dock planks rather roughly and with a resounding clank noise. Turning away from the fuss caused by the baggage handlers and dock-crew unloading crates of supplies from the ship, Emily took the opportunity to enjoy her first view of Charlestown from the shore. Signs of the recent battles for control of the city showed clearly, as a number of buildings surrounding the harbor had collapsed, the victims of cannon shot and fire damage. Several were little more than a heap of charred timbers and had been roped off in a weak attempt at keeping the city children from playing in the wreckage.   
  
Despite the destruction, the town and its population seemed to have returned to business as usual, and she could see a great number of merchants and other townspeople rushing about on various errands. Several small groups of red-coated soldiers patrolled the area as well, presumably on the watch for any sort of disturbances.   
  
Seeing the uniformed men snapped her out of her casual reverie. Her uncle knew of her impending arrival, and she expected that he would send someone to meet her. Sure enough, at that moment she spotted a pair of officers approaching, flanked by a pair of enlisted men. The taller of the two officers immediately caught her attention.   
  
He was a large, powerful looking man with broad sholders and dark hair, and carried a black helmet cradled under his left arm. He walked up the pier with an attitude of command, surveying the busy activities around the ship. Catching sight of Emily and her mounting pile of baggage, he rolled his eyes slightly and mumbled something to the other officer at his side, a slightly shorter man with reddish-brown hair and a similar uniform. The second officer looked shocked for a moment, but quickly subdued the expression as he realized Emily was watching their approach intently. The tall officer noticed this as well, and put on a polite grin as they neared the spot where she stood waiting.   
  
"Ms. Emily Durnham, I assume? I'm Colonel William Tavington, and this is Captain Frederick Bordon... Lord General Cornwallis asked us to escort you to his headquarters."   
  
As the Colonel smiled charmingly, his cold gray eyes locked onto hers and Emily was dumbstruck for a moment. She found the chill in his voice slightly rude, but the darkness lurking in his eyes was just plain frightening. Her chin fluttered slightly but no words of response came. Bordon cleared his throat quietly and startled her back to her senses.   
  
"Yes! Yes... but my baggage..." Emily gestured quickly to the pile and the servants continuing to bring various sized chests and cases down the gang-way. She suddenly felt very foolish for bringing such a large amount of personal items, but at the time she'd had no say in the matter. Most of it had been packed by her mother. Mrs. Durnham, the youngest sister of General Cornwallis, apparently believed South Carolina to be the absolute edge of civilization and had set about packing everything she thought her daughter might eventually find some use for while on her trip. It had been like pulling teeth for Emily to convince her mother to allow the trip at all, so she made no resistance when her mother insisted on doing the packing for her.   
  
"A minor matter," Tavington said quickly, raising his hand and signaling over his shoulder to the pair of red-coated soldiers behind him, who quickly stepped forward. "Private Wellon and Private Barker will see that it is conveyed safely to the estate. Your servants may accompany them once they're finished unloading it all." His final few words carried a heavy flavor of disdain.   
  
Emily looked down, her cheeks flushing slightly with shame. She had a good idea of why the Colonel would be upset by a civilian passenger transporting so much luggage on a military ship. Each of her bags occupied space in the hold that could have been filled with supplies for his men and the rest of the army. 'He probably thinks I'm some sort of rich, spoiled brat,' she thought.   
  
Again, Bordon chimed in, "If you have a small travel bag you'd like to take until the rest is delivered, I'd be more than happy to carry it for you, Miss." His voice was soft and reassuring. Emily's expression brightened.   
  
"That's very kind of you, Captain. I do have one here somewhere…" As she turned to look over the stack of bags, a sudden gust of wind caught under the rim of her bonnet and knocked it off her head in a flurry of light-blue ribbon. Startled, she turned quickly and made a move to snatch at it but it had already flown beyond her reach.   
  
With a loud fwap it hit Colonel Tavington directly in the face. In a startled reflex, both of his hands reached up to grab at it, forgetting completely about the helmet held under his arm. It slipped loose and immediately dropped, bouncing on the pier's wooden planking before tumbling over the edge. It hit the water roughly two feet below with a splash. Having landed upside down, it floated on the surface, bobbing lightly in the harbor's gentle waves.   
  
Emily's eyes widened and her hand flew to cover her mouth in a look of panic. Tavington pulled the bonnet away from his face, his expression one of pure rage. His thin lips twisted into a tight snarl and his brow furrowed. The effect was terrifying, and for a moment Emily thought she would surely burst into flame under the heat of his gaze. Bordon's initial look of surprise quickly changed to one of extreme worry. He knew his commander's temper quite well after having been the outlet for it often enough, and this certainly wasn't the time for it to go off, particularly on the Lord General's niece!   
  
He forced a shaky smile, his eyes flicking from the Colonel to Emily and back again nervously. "Must be Rebel ghosts!" Bordon quipped hastily, hoping to lighten the situation.   
  
Tavington stepped forward quickly, the bonnet raised slightly in his tightly clenched fist and Emily stumbled backward to get away from him, afraid he was going to strike her with it. Likewise, Bordon's hand raised quickly, as if to intercede between the young woman and his commander, but much to his relief Tavington lowered the bonnet slowly and held it out to Emily. The vengeful expression on his face melted into one of cold resentment. One hand still clasped over her mouth and her eyes wide with fear, she cautiously reached out and took it from him.   
  
Immediately Tavington turned and drew his sword in one fluid movement. Bordon winced reflexively, but his panic was only momentary as the Colonel took a few steps forward to the edge of the pier, away from the much shaken Emily. Kneeling with his sword still drawn, he reached out and hooked the sword's tip inside the rim of his helmet, using the blade to draw it closer to him so he could fish it out of the water. His movements were stiff and excedingly systematic. Once it was close enough, he stretched out his other arm and snagged it by the chinstrap.   
  
He stood up slowly, a torrent of seawater dripping from his rescued helmet. Bordon couldn't see his face with his back turned, but from the vicious tremble in his shoulders, he could tell Tavington was absolutely livid. Their helmets got wet all the time when it rained, but salt water was something else entirely and he knew it could potentially ruin the helmet's furry crest, not to mention the leather. Such elaborate and vital pieces of equipment were not cheap to replace.   
  
After several moments of silence, Colonel Tavington finally spoke, his voice coming as a muted but carefully measured hiss between tightly clenched teeth, "Captain… Please see Ms. Durnham to the carriage. Report to me once you're finished delivering her to the estate."   
  
Without looking back, he strode off the pier. The boards under his feet shook noisily at the fierceness of his strides, prompting a few townspeople in the vicinity to look up curiously toward the disturbance. Passing one of the small waterfront shops, he swiftly dunked his already soaked helmet into a barrel of rainwater sitting outside the shop's entrance in hopes of rinsing off some of the salt water. Without breaking stride he gave the helmet a shake, carelessly spattering several passersby before retrieving the reins of his horse from a young infantry private. He mounted quickly and turned the horse, riding off down the street.   
  
Bordon and Emily were frozen speechless as they watched him go. The Captain was accustomed to Colonel Tavington's unpredictable behavior though, and quickly shrugged it off. Emily however was visibly shaken, and he flashed her an apologetic smile.   
  
"You really must forgive him, Miss… I'm afraid my commander has a rather fiery temper. It serves him well enough in the field, but tends to.. well.. clash with the nature of more delicate situations." Bordon repositioned his own helmet under his arm to a more comfortable position and winked at her slyly.   
  
Emily couldn't help but smile, though her expression was meek, "I'm afraid I made a rather bad impression on him, Captain... I certainly wouldn't blame him if he never speaks to me again." She shuffled her feet slightly, then remembered her baggage and turned toward it. "Oh, what a mess! Why did I ever let Mother pack so much?" She stepped softly around the pile, looking for some sign of her travel bag. Finally she spotted it and tugged it lightly, slipping it out from under several other bags without disturbing them enough to topple the stack.   
  
"Allow me, Miss," Bordon said as he stooped to pick up the small bag. It was a cloth carry-all with a lavender and blue floral print and had large leather handles attached to the top, making it easy to carry. Despite the bag's small size, it had a surprising weight to it... Bordon silently wondered at that a moment, then dismissed the idea off-hand in light of the amount of Emily's baggage. 'Who knows what could be in here?' He thought quickly.   
  
"I'm sure the Lord General will be very pleased to see you." He said warmly as she followed him off the pier and toward the waiting carriage. Nearby another young private stood holding the reins of Bordon's horse. "He seemed to be anticipating your arrival quite eagerly and had a nice room prepared for you in the estate's main house. You should find it quite comfortable. It's a very large house owned by a Loyalist family, and several of our officers are staying there, the Lord General included, until the fort is rebuilt." Bordon thought of adding, 'As well as the Colonel and myself,' but stopped short, not wanting to remind Emily of her all to recent encounter with Tavington.   
  
"I'm sure I'll love it, Captain," She chimed with a warm and honest grin, which he returned.   
  
As they arrived at the carriage door, its driver stepped forward and opened the door for them, Bordon lending Emily his hand as she climbed inside. He then followed, sitting opposite her and resting her bag on the floor beside him.   



	2. Dampened Pride

**Chapter 2- Dampened Pride**

  
  
Nearly a mile down the road to Middleton Place, Colonel Tavington was still fuming. His sodden helmet, hung by the chinstrap from a loop on his saddle, bounced in time with the horse's strides. He wasn't so angry about his headwear's rather soggy state, as he was that the accident had occurred by the carelessness of none other than Cornwallis' niece. _'Ineptitude obviously runs in the family...'_ he mused as he rode, _'What can such a girl handle in life, if not her own damn bonnet?'_ Her lack of an apology after the fact aggravated him further, though he took slight pleasure in the knowledge that his reaction had frightened her. At least that was one effect he could have on the niece that he couldn't have on her uncle.   
  
It was no secret to anyone even moderately up-to-date on camp gossip that Tavington and Cornwallis did not get along. Tavington's harsh methods and occasional instances of near-insubordination would have led to the Lord General's prompt dismissal of him if not for his value on the battlefield. Though Tavington knew he'd never admit it, Cornwallis needed him. He was good with his men and knew how to control them, on and off the field, which was more than could be said for some of the other commanders. Still, no matter how many victories he brought, horses he captured or casualties he caused to the enemy, Cornwallis never gave him so much as a word of approval, a fact that chaffed the Colonel to no end. He was proud of his record and felt slighted at the lack of positive recognition he received.   
  
Tavington shoved these bitter thoughts from his mind and thought again of Emily. Not overly beautiful, but not plain either. The way her long, dark hair had been arranged in curls under her bonnet and her wide hazel eyes created an innocent, girlish quality which he found attractive, but it had been the look in those eyes, locked under his own gaze, that had gotten his attention. Indeed, he thought the willful and self-assured nature he saw in her eyes very much contradicted the appearance of frail vulnerability her physical traits portrayed.   
  
He shook his head to clear it. _'One rich girl is the same as the next... no doubt she's got all the charm and personality of her uncle. Having one of that line around is bad enough!'_ The Colonel rolled his eyes at the thought, his mouth twisting into a jagged frown.   
  
At any rate, he doubted very much that he'd get a chance to know her very well. Cornwallis would certainly keep a watchful eye on his young niece, considering the number of opportunistic young bachelors in residence at the estate. Colonel Tavington felt sure he was not the sort of man the General would tolerate her interacting with, even casually. _'Thank God for that small mercy...'_   
  
He'd been shocked when Cornwallis asked him to retrieve his niece in the first place. The Lord General originally asked General O'Hara a week earlier if he would be there to meet Emily, but O'Hara came down with the flu a few days later and confined himself to his room to sweat it out. With all his other "respectable" officers out on patrol, Cornwallis had no choice but to give the job to Tavington. Despite his harsh methods on the battlefield, Cornwallis knew Tavington could be polite and pull off 'a good impression of a gentleman' if he put his mind to it, but still gave the Colonel very specific details on how he expected his niece to be treated.   
  
Rounding a bend in the road, the plantation came into view and he turned his thoughts to more practical matters. Following his hurried departure from the pier, Tavington immediately regretted his hasty actions. After all, the Lord General himself would surely be watching for his niece's arrival from the window of his study on the second floor of the large manor house, and seeing Tavington ride in alone would make him suspicious... then angry once he heard the full story. The Colonel decided to make his arrival back at camp as quiet as possible, and turned his horse away from the main approach to the house, riding instead toward the neighboring field of tents off to his right. A large number of the King's Legion infantry, as well as both of Cornwallis' Dragoon divisions were encamped there, in the large fields which surrounding the house.   
  
Normally the fields would have been filled with growing plant crops at this time of season, but upon the army's arrival Cornwallis reached an agreement with the plantation's Loyalist owners and the immature plants had been leveled to allow tents to be set up. The army compensated the family for the value of the plants, and were permitted to stay in residence as long as needed. It was a win-win situation for everyone involved: the plantation owners lost little in the way of revenue their land would have brought in that year while gaining the protection of the army from any Rebel forces marauding the area, and the British force received ample space to lodge troops, as well as rooms in the main house for officers and the use of stable enclosures for the Dragoon's numerous horses.   
  
Colonel Tavington guided his horse to the stable and dismounted, handing the reins to a nearby attendant. He'd have to lay low until Bordon arrived with Emily and the carriage... As soon as it came in, he could make an appearance on the manor's front steps, and Cornwallis would assume he'd been with them the entire time...   
  
A sly grin crept across his face as he imagined it, _'To each problem, a perfect solution...'_   
  
----------------   
  
As the carriage bumped along the road from Charlestown, Emily leaned close to the window and watched the passing scenery. Seated in the front of the carriage, she couldn't see what lay ahead, only what was behind them. Occasionally she would glance behind the rear of the carriage to watch the young private following on Bordon's horse. The young infantryman was obviously having trouble with the large and spirited Dragoon mount, and was barely able to keep it on the road. It skittered back and forth, kicking up its hooves, tossing its head and snorting defiantly.   
  
The corner of Emily's mouth quirked up in wry a grin. She felt sorry for the young man, but it was quite funny to watch. Bordon noted her amusement, he grinned back and his eyebrow raised questioningly. Seeing his expression, Emily laughed.   
  
"I'm afraid your horse is giving that poor man quite a bit of trouble, Captain!" She gestured toward the pair, her grin widening. Sitting opposite her, Bordon couldn't see in that direction, but he had a good idea of exactly what she meant. He laughed.   
  
"Baron's got a bit of an attitude, you might say... He barely listens to me sometimes!" Bordon rolled his eyes dramatically. "I would never have brought him, but both of the estate's carriages were in use, so Colonel Tavington and I had to ride into Charlestown and borrow this one from General Leslie. He's been supervising the town, by General Cornwallis' order, since the siege. Of course, I couldn't leave my horse behind, so I borrowed the young private there to follow along with him. At least he'll be able to ride back to town in style when the driver returns this carriage to the General."   
  
Bordon laughed again as something else came to mind. "I'm almost glad the Colonel took off like he did... We originally planned to have that private ride one horse and lead the other. Between the two of those beasts, I'm sure they'd have tossed him and run off in search of a good time, miles back!"   
  
Emily smiled brightly at his musings. She liked this Captain Bordon already. He was kind and good-natured, everything his commander apparently was not. The two of them definitely seemed an oddly matched pair. She returned her gaze to the passing scenery and fumed inwardly, thinking of how she'd behaved earlier. Emily was the oldest of five children, and the only daughter. Her younger brothers and father pampered her while she was growing up, and gave in to all her whims. She was accustomed to having her way when it came to men. Emily was now twenty years old and, due to her family's wealth and high standing in society, had been courted fiercely by some of the most eligible bachelors in England. But she hadn't taken any of them very seriously, knowing them to be interested in little more than obtaining the generous dowry her father would offer on her marriage. She'd befriended most of them, and used her status to toy with the others. This is why she was so shocked by the reaction she'd had to that man on the pier... that Colonel Tavington! Usually men were intimidated by her, not the other way around!   
  
Her jaw clenched into a tight line. _'One thing is certain,'_ she told herself reproachfully, _'...it won't happen again!'_   



	3. Spirited Reunions

**Chapter 3- Spirited Reunions**

  
  
Bordon leaned close to the carriage window and peered out as the estate and army camp came into view. Sitting opposite him, Emily fiddled absently with the blue ribbons on the bonnet in her lap. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the glass to get her attention.   
  
"We should be arriving in a few minutes." Bordon paused and picked his riding gloves up from where he'd set them on the seat at his side, "I hope I don't seem too forward in my saying so, but you must care for your uncle a great deal to travel all this way to visit him?"   
  
"Indeed, Captain," Emily allowed a small grin as she spoke, "With my family living in London, he used to drop by and visit whenever he was in the city on Parliamentary business. I guess he still sees my mother as his baby sister, and my father's an old friend of his. They were at Eton together." Her grin faded suddenly and her gaze turned back to the passing scenery. The change in her mood was so drastic, Bordon immediately regretted his question. He shifted uneasily in his seat a moment.   
  
"Well, I hope your stay is an enjoyable one. There's never any lack of goings-on about the estate, being as it's the center of our operations for the moment. The next few days in particular should be..." He stopped short, prompting Emily to return her attention to the Caption, who was now fidgeting with his riding gloves and trying desperately to look exceedingly interested in something beyond the carriage window. _'Oh grand, I've really done it now... and she's staring right at me.'_ He colored slightly and set his gloves back on the seat beside him in an effort to curb his fidgeting, but it was too late.   
  
"Should be what, Captain?" Emily's grin returned and an eyebrow raised questioningly, her curiosity piqued by Bordon's strange behavior. He made no answer and tried to look as if he hadn't heard her question, trying to look casual as he picked at a bit of lint on the sleeve of his jacket. Emily was hardly disuaded and pressed him further. "Oh come now, Captain, pleeease tell me! What's going to be happening at the estate? Are more troops coming in?"   
  
Bordon gave a sigh of resignation and met her gaze, which was now beaming with anticipation. "My own fault for not being more careful with my words," the corner of his mouth turned upward slightly, "Your uncle will kill me once he finds out I ruined his surprise."   
  
"Surprise? That devil! What has he planned? Oh, I hope to God it's not a party..." Emily's eager expression melted into one of distress.   
  
"Well... um..."   
  
"Oh, NO! It is, isn't it?" Emily groaned and hid her face in her hands. Her voice was full of despair. "I worried he might do something like this... Doesn't he see my coming here was as much to escape such things, as anything else?"   
  
Bordon's initial confusion at her reaction changed to concern, "Well now I certainly regret my big mouth. I didn't mean to distress you."   
  
"Oh, it isn't your fault, Captain." Emily sighed. "When's it supposed to be?"   
  
"Thursday night."   
  
"Two days, hm? I'll hardly have any time to meet anyone before then, which makes it even worse. You see, I have no appetite for formal social gatherings, Captain." Her brow furrowed as she spoke, "At least at home I could make it through by hiding in some corner with a few friends to serve as a shield against all the complete bores society obliged my mother to issue invitations..."   
  
Bordon did his best to smile reassuringly, "Well, if it's any help, I'll try and point out the bores to you so you can attempt to steer clear of them."   
  
The tone of his voice was such that Emily couldn't help laughing, "That would be most kind, Captain. I'm glad to have made your acquaintance today."   
  
Bordon blushed slightly, but before he could reply the carriage slowed and rolled to a stop. He cleared his throat quietly, "Well, here we are!" Grabbing his gloves he moved and opened the door, then climbed out. He disappeared from the frame of the open door as Emily picked up her bonnet and made a quick effort to smooth her hair before following. She peered out eagerly at the large house, where a wide stairway of white stone led up to a broad landing and a wide, intricately carved wooden door that served as the front entry. A gloved hand raised in the doorway and she accepted it, gathering her skirts and stepping out.   
  
She smiled gratefully, "Thank you very much, Capta..." her voice caught in her throat suddenly as she turned to meet a disturbingly familiar pair of blue-gray eyes.   
  
Colonel Tavington looked extremely pleased with himself, a fact that was amplified by Emily's expression of shock and dismay. Something in her had obviously changed since their last encounter however, and her look quickly changed to one of simple irritation.   
  
"Why you... how did..?!" She made an effort to tug her hand free of his grasp, but his grip was firm.   
  
"Just be a good girl and smile for your uncle," Tavington said through the side of his mouth, his self-satisfied grin curling even larger as the Lord General appeared in the doorway of the manor, flanked by an even paler than usual General O'Hara and the owners of the plantation, Mr. and Mrs. Middleton.   
  
Emily bit back the scathing retort that was clawing at her insides and instead called a cheerful greeting to her uncle, who was quickly decending the stairs with a warm and familiar smile. The Cornwallis carried himself with an air of dignified confidence which, coupled with his neatly powered wig and spotless uniform, made him the perfect picture of a gentlemanly British officer. He was only in his mid-forties, but looked considerably older, a fact that startled Emily when she first laid eyes on him in the doorway. She felt Tavington's grip on her hand loosen as the General neared and took the opportunity to pull it from his grasp, freeing herself to take a few quick steps forward to meet her uncle as he arrived at the bottom of the stairs.   
  
"My dear Emily! Welcome to South Carolina." Cornwallis smiled and embraced his niece warmly, an act of familiarity such as none present had ever seen from the General before then.   
  
"It's good to see you, Uncle," Emily said, returning his smile and planting a light kiss on his cheek, Bordon's earlier revelation about the impending party completely forgotten for the moment. Accepting his offered arm, they turned and headed up the stairs toward the others waiting by the door.   
  
She glanced around and quickly spotted Bordon nearby. He shot her an apologetic look before turning retrieve her bag from inside the carriage. Meanwhile, Tavington stood quietly by the railing at the bottom of the stairs, not quite sure what to do next. The General had not, through the whole process of welcoming Emily, so much as glanced in the Colonel's direction much less thanked him. He wondered for a moment if Cornwallis could have heard somehow of his premature return to camp. Tavington clasped his hands behind his back and shifted his feet uneasily in the gravel of the front path.   
  
As they reached the top of the landing Cornwallis turned toward the sound, his expression condescending, "See that carriage is returned, Colonel."   
  



	4. Of Wine and (Not-So) Dark Things

**Chapter 4- Of Wine and (Not-So) Dark Things**

  
  
Following his stingingly off-handed dismissal by the Lord General, Tavington had a few quick and biting words with the carriage driver about returning the vehicle to Charlestown immediately and then stomped off in the direction of the manor's side entrance. Bordon stared after him a moment, then remembered his horse and had it taken to the stables while he assisted the shaken private who'd ridden it there in finding his legs enough to climb into the coach for return to the city.   
  
Tavington, Bordon and a number of other officers of lesser rank had taken rooms above the house's servant quarters, while the Generals had larger rooms on the other side of the manor. The Colonel slipped in through the side door, which served as an entrance to one of the kitchens, letting it slam shut behind him before storming up the narrow flight of stairs toward his room. In this part of the house, a number of small bedrooms were arranged on either side of a long hallway. The occupants of these rooms changed every day or two, with officers coming and going as some units left and others returned. The quarters were far from fancy in their appointments, but adequate and comfortable, making for a nice change to those officers coming in from weeks of sleeping on simple cots in the field.   
  
Reaching his room at the end of the hall, Tavington entered and closed the door behind him quickly, leaning back against it. His hands knotted tightly behind his back and he clenched his teeth as he stood there completely still for several minutes, allowing his temper to cool some before walking further into the room in fear that he might unleash it in a way that might damage the already limited furniture.   
  
_'Damn Cornwallis! Sir Henry's only been gone for two days(1) and already he bloody acts as if he were the King himself!'_   
  
A sudden tapping on the other side of the door startled him. Straightening himself, Tavington turned and opened it a crack. He was met by a rather large bottle of wine held at eye level, blocking his view of whoever held it on the other side.   
  
"Thought I heard you come in, Tav! Lookit what I managed to liberate from the home of a naughty Rebel in Georgetown... vintage '63! Not bad, eh?"   
  
Tavington rolled his eyes, "When did you get back?"   
  
"Two hours ago. I'd been taking the time to 'reacquaint' myself with the maid staff downstairs when I thought I heard you oh-so-quietly sneak in." The bottle lowered to reveal the roguishly grinning face of relatively short man in his mid-twenties. Despite his small size and boyish features, Lt. Colonel Banastre Tarleton was powerfully built and projected an air of absolute confidence.   
  
Tavington sighed and walked away from the door, which Tarleton promptly pushed open. "Thank you so much for that lovely mental image... Isn't it a bit early in the day for drinking, Ban?" He sat down at the small oak desk that was positioned near the room's single window and sifted through the stack of papers that one of the clerks had delivered earlier in the morning.   
  
Tarleton laughed and shut the door behind him, "Why, if it were possible I'd say you seem even grumpier than usual!" He crossed the room and stood opposite the desk, setting down the bottle and a pair of glasses. "So, what's the matter? You might as well tell me, because if you don't you know I'll just get it from Bordon later!" He grinned and drew a small knife from his belt, using it to pry the cork out of the bottle.   
  
Tavington cast him a reproachful look which didn't phase Tarleton at all, the latter arching an eyebrow and grinning even wider. Tavington's expression softened and he raised his hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. Ban poured each of them a glass from the bottle and held his up in a quick salute before taking a gulp as Tavington began to relate the morning's events.   
  
"I had one of my little exchanges with his Lordship a while ago." His teeth grated audibly, "He had Bordon and I ride down to Charlestown to pick up his brat niece, Emily..."   
  
Ban sputtered and coughed violently, causing a spray of droplets to spatter most of the paperwork on Tavington's desk with patterns of fine red spots.   
  
"Emily Durnham?! Here? You're pulling my leg..."   
  
Tavington glared at Ban, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the spots before they soaked permanently into the papers' fibers.   
  
"Hardly.. she came in through Charleston earlier today. Yours-truly had the luck of being chosen to meet her when she arrived." Tavington rolled his eyes. "But come now, Ban, I thought you were up-to-date on the comings and goings of every female within fifty miles!" Realizing his efforts at wiping up the mess were doing little more than turning red spots into red smears, he cast the soiled kerchief aside and gathered the papers into a rough stack.   
  
Panic colored Tarleton's normally jovial face. "By God, I guess you aren't joking! Well.. if that's true, let me be the first to warn you- that girl's a demon! Take my advice and stay as far away from her as..."   
  
A smile suddenly cracked Tavington's features and he laughed loudly, tilting back in his chair casually and bringing both of his feet to a rest on the top of the desk.   
  
"Oh come now, Ban! Your exaggerations, entertaining as they may be at times, are surely overblown in this case.. Granted, she is Cornwallis' niece, which is enough in itself to guess at the quality of her personality, but I've met this girl! She seems harmless enough..."   
  
"Fine then, take your chances!" Ban's expression was haughty. "I tell you, by the end of one week in the company of that girl you'll be drinking yourself blind down at the town pub- which is fine by me, because it'll give you the opportunity to buy me a few drinks while we discuss my 'exaggerations'..."   
  
Tavington raised an eyebrow challengingly, "The pub, eh? Thank God I'm not in the habit of taking my papers down there... At any rate, how are you acquainted with this 'demon'?"   
  
Tarleton took another sip of his drink, "That's a story for another time, I'm afraid." He wrinkled his nose and looked down at the glass, swirling the contents a bit. "I've got to go make my report to Cornwallis. I'll leave you with that bottle... it seems these southern Colonials know nothing about the proper storage of wine." He downed the rest of the glass with a grimace before turning toward the door.   
  
"Be forewarned he's probably still in the company of your little Angrboda(2)..." Tavington took an experimental little sip from his own glass. He blanched and coughed, quickly setting the glass back down and pushing it as far away from him as the small surface of the desk would allow.   
  
Tarleton halted with his hand on the doorknob. "Hm... you're probably right. Maybe I can convince one of the sweet ladies downstairs to have a peek in on him and see if the coast is clear before I head over there." With a final smirk he slipped out the door, leaving Tavington to his paperwork and curious thoughts about everything Ban hadn't said...   
  
  
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Notes- _1) If the story is accurate with the real historical timeline, then today would be June 10th according to Tavy, as Clinton departed for New York on the 8th._   
_2) Angrboda is a giant demoness often referred to as the "Bringer of Sorrow". She was supposedly the consort of Loki, a half-god/half-demon that would bring about the end of the world. I thought this a suitable connection for Tavy to draw between Emily and Cornwallis, assuming he read of the myth somewhere ;) On a side note, Angrboda is said to have given birth to three monsters, Fenrir (a giant wolf), Jormungand (a vicious serpent), and Hel (the ruler of the dead)... draw your own connections to our three boys. More on this myth can be found at_ http://www.vikingage.com/vac/lokis-kids.html   



	5. For the Sake of Appearances

Author's Note: _I was glad to hear that Ban's part in chapter 4 was enjoyable ^_^ I assure you he wasnt just a one-shot cameo, and to prove it, here he is again later in chapter 5! This is a long one, so hope you guys like it! Since all the preliminary stuff is finished by the end of chapter 5, direct tie-ins to the plotline of the movie start here. I've done my best to make connections to what was ACTUALLY going on historically in the same timeframe and make the movie fiction fit in as best I could. I've marked the factual warpings I've created in doing so, but apologize for any mistakes I may have missed. Numbered reference notes are included at the end of each chapter._   
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**Chapter 5- For the Sake of Appearances**

  
  
Emily sipped her tea quietly and surveyed her surroundings. The study Cornwallis had claimed as his office was a room of generous size and lavish décor. It amazed her how quickly her uncle had managed to personalize the place. She looked up at the painting of her late aunt, hung in a prominent position above the study's centerpiece, a large and ornately carved cherry wood desk.   
  
Since the Lord General stepped out of the office a few moments previously to meet with some minor officer, Emily took the opportunity to reflect on the events since her arrival at Middleton Place. Her introductions to the owners of the plantation and to her uncle's subordinate, General O'Hara, had been pleasant enough. O'Hara was a cheerful sort, and Emily had found his unique accent(1) quite charming. A shame that he'd excused himself so soon, but it was understandable in light of his cold. The man really hadn't looked well, despite his efforts to seem otherwise. The Middletons were kind people as well. They were an older couple with two adult children, a daughter married to a lawyer in New York and a son who'd been Emily's age when he was killed at Bennington in '77. Mrs. Lillian Middleton had related this and the history of the plantation as she'd given Emily a quick tour of the house and grounds.   
  
Emily frowned at the thought and set her teacup back on its saucer. War was a dirty business, but there was something so real about it. She rose from her chair and walked to the study's large set of windows, looking out over the great expanse of the army camp. It was a constant mill of activity, with units conducting small drills and stable attendants putting the cavalry horses through their paces. On the main road into camp, a steady stream of mounted messengers and supply wagons were continuously coming and going, kicking up swirling clouds of dust in their wake.   
  
_'What would these men be doing, if not for the war?'_ Emily rested her hands on the windowsill and leaned close to the glass, absorbing the sight. _'Rotting away on farms or making petty business... isn't this better than all that?'_ Freedom, adventure, and best of all, it meant something. She envied them. It was a feeling that forcefully rose up in her so swiftly and powerfully that she wanted to scream. Instead she forced it back down as she always did, feeling it tighten into a writhing knot in her stomach. That knot was always there, like a vicious little caged animal eager to escape. She feared that sometime it might do just that, and when it did it would tear, bite and claw all the way out. But the creature was always patient and bided its time, waiting until she was alone to stir in its confines, taking every opportunity to remind her of its presence.   
  
The sound of the door opening sent the beast slinking into a dark corner for the time being, and she painted herself with a winning smile before turning toward the entry. Cornwallis looked pleased as he gave the door a light push closed, a small ream of papers in his hand.   
  
"Sorry to keep you waiting, my dear," he said as he returned to the large and comfortable chair behind the broad desk.   
  
"Not at all, uncle." Emily returned to her own chair at the General's side and sank down into it, picking her teacup up again. "I know you must be busy, and don't worry, I hardly expect the war to halt just to accommodate my little visit." She smiled and sipped her tea slowly.   
  
"I know you don't, but part of me wishes it could all the same." Cornwallis smiled regretfully, "On that note however, I'm afraid I've some disappointing news."   
  
Emily's eyes widened with worry and she lowered the cup from her lips, "Oh no, has something happened? That report... was it bad news?"   
  
"No, no... actually it was quite good news, as far as the war is concerned, but on a personal front it's quite regrettable. You see, I'd planned to throw a nice little welcoming party for you here, to take place two days from now, but based on this," the General raised the paper in his hand, "I'm afraid it's going to have to be delayed... You see, there's a matter which requires my personal attention, and it's going to take a few days. Fort Carolina is nearly complete and I must supervise its completion to ensure all has been prepared in a satisfactory manner."   
  
Emily tried to look and sound disappointed, "Oh uncle, you needn't worry about me. I'm sure it would have been a lovely party, but I understand that such matters to do with the war cannot wait." On a more honest note, she frowned and added, "But I will most certainly miss you having to leave so soon... may I accompany you to the Fort?"   
  
Cornwallis sighed and shook his head, "I'm afraid it's better that you stay here until I return. The area is still not completely secured from threat of the Rebels and I'd feel better knowing you were here where it's safe. They'd never strike here with most of our army camped outside! The Middletons are good people and if you need anything while I'm gone don't hesitate to ask them." Emily's hand rested on the desk, and he patted it reassuringly. "I promise to return as soon as possible. Hopefully preparations can be finished quickly, and I should be back by Friday." His expression brightened with a smile, "At any rate, we've about an hour before I will be leaving, so how about accompanying your dear old uncle on a stroll through the gardens?"   
  
Emily laughed lightly and grinned, "General, sir, I would be delighted!"   
  
------------------   
  
Mrs. Middleton's garden was large and beautifully maintained. All of the plants were local species, most of which Emily had never seen before and found quite interesting. General Cornwallis pointed out those plants he'd come to know in his time there, and she did her best to remember their names. To the regret of both however, the hour passed quickly and a staff sergeant soon came to inform the Lord General that his escort was ready to leave for Fort Carolina.   
  
Emily embraced her uncle and said goodbye on the same steps where they'd greeted one another a scant few hours earlier. She stood on the landing and watched the group depart until they vanished in the distance before she turned and walked back into the house. Closing the door behind her, she sighed quietly and leaned back against the doorframe, staring down at the neatly polished floor of the foyer. Emily could hear the sound of men laughing somewhere else in the large house, and a flutter of nervousness passed through her. She realized then that she'd miss more of her uncle than his company. With him around, she had someone she knew nearby, someone she could trust. Now she was alone, an ocean away from her home in England, in a house full of strangers.   
  
She heard footsteps approaching and was relieved to see Mrs. Middleton come around the corner. The older woman noticed Emily's agitation and smiled kindly, "Well now, what are you doing in here all alone? You must be exhausted after all your travel today. Come on, I'll show you back to your room. I'm afraid my little tour for you earlier was so hurried, you must have quite forgotten where it is!" Lillian took Emily's hand gently and led her off through the house. The pair cut through one of the richly decorated parlors where three finely uniformed officers were conversing at the far end of the room. Emily failed to notice the man in a green dragoon jacket quickly turn and hide his face behind a book as they entered, listening as Mrs. Middleton pointed out that her baggage had arrived and been taken to her room.   
  
---------------   
  
Ban Tarleton heaved a heavy sigh of relief as the pair disappeared through a far doorway and tossed the book onto a nearby table. Bordon looked up from his drink, confused by Tarleton's odd behavior and the even stranger grin that had formed on the face of William Tavington, who was lounging on a nearby couch with a drink of his own. At the same time he tried to hide his disappointment that Emily hadn't looked in their direction and seen him, as he'd raised his hand in greeting when they entered, but the pair of women breezed through the room so quickly neither noticed.   
  
He set his glass down on the table next to Ban's discarded book and looked at the two Colonels questioningly, "What are you two on about?"   
  
The trio had been raiding Mr. Middleton's bourbon cabinet and planning the patrol the dragoons and Legion infantry would be conducting the next day. Orders for the action had been included in the stack of papers delivered to Colonel Tavington earlier, and while Ban was disappointed at not having much time to rest before going out again, he was certainly eager to escape the possibility of a chance encounter with Emily. Lillian Middleton openly disapproved of her aged husband's drinking, citing it was bad for his already less than perfect health, and had snuck the three officers the key to the cabinet under his nose, hoping they'd clean it out before he noticed.   
  
Tavington stretched and snagged a bottle of liquor from the same table and refilled his glass as he quirked an eyebrow at his fellow dragoon. "Yes, Ban, why don't you clue us in on what it is about our esteemed commander's niece that sends the head of his Majesty's Legion scurrying for cover?" His tone was good-natured, even playful: a distinct change from his usually surliness. Being in Tarleton's company seemed to have that effect on everyone, and apparently not even Tavington was immune. Bordon suspected, however, that the Lord General's recent departure played a far larger role in his commander's newly found good mood. Bordon himself rarely drank but had given into Ban's prodding and accepted a single glass of the fine, rust colored bourbon.   
  
Now it was the two older officers who prodded and Ban who stood silent, pouring his attention on a map spread across the table in front of him. Obviously he wasn't eager to tell the tale. Bordon nudged him with his elbow.   
  
"You know Ms. Durnham?" Now he truly was curious.   
  
Ban tapped the toe of his highly polished boot against one of the table's legs, his face reddening slightly. "Well, knew, yes..."   
  
In his reclined position, Tavington drained his glass and filled it once more, thoroughly enjoying Ban's obvious discomfort. "It seems Colonel Tarleton has a less than positive opinion of our new arrival, though he quite neatly sidestepped telling me why when I questioned him on it earlier. Don't think you'll get away twice, Ban." There was an edge to his voice that made the statement seem threatening, despite his playful manner.   
  
Tarleton sighed and sunk into one of the plush parlor chairs. Since he and Tavington held the same provisional rank, Tavington couldn't order him to disclose anything, but the two had been working together closely since arriving in South Carolina and Ban knew William's disposition quite well. Once his mind was set on something, he was not to be avoided, much less reasoned with. While he wasn't intimidated, he often gave into the older officer when their opinions differed, in the field and off it. Their methods of command were endlessly different, but Tarleton looked up to Tavington in many ways. Few other officers had the guts to stand up to Cornwallis and the other generals like he did, and while Tarleton had no disagreements with the commanders himself, he admired Tavington's willingness to conduct himself and his dragoons as he saw fit- regardless of how others might view his actions.   
  
Ban frowned, "I don't doubt you wont let me out of this room until I do tell it, so fine, I surrender! See, about fifteen years ago..."   
  
"Fifteen years? You would'of bin children!" Tavington slurred a bit, as the bourbon was finally starting to get to him.   
  
Tarleton glared and crossed his arms, "Do you want me to tell it or not? 'Not' suits me just fine."   
  
"Sorry, sorry," Tavington smirked and set down his now empty glass, fixing his full attention on Ban. As full as possible, anyway, for the alcohol was starting to make his mind wander.   
  
"As I was saying, about fifteen years ago my father was running a moderately large import business out of London- you know, bringing in various sorts of rarities- fine furniture from the Continent, china and other bits of glassware, you get the idea. Anyway, Gregory Durnham, the demon's father, had a minor investment in the company and was also a frequent customer, so he and my father had a sort of professional relationship. We used to be invited to their parties, and my father would meet with Mr. Durnham occasionally to discuss matters relating to the business. Not long after this arrangement began, my father decided to haul me along to one of these meetings. I would have been about ten years old at the time."   
  
Ban paused reflectively, "We went by carriage to the Durnham home, grand big thing in the posh section of the city. I'm sure the whole afternoon would have been quite uneventful if not for the fact that a certain little monster was lurking in wait there. While my father and Mr. Durnham met in the study, they left me to 'get acquainted' with Mrs. Durnham and their children in one of the parlors. It all seemed well and good, until she came in... She tore into the room like a pack of wolves, screaming about something or other. I think she must have been about five. Once she set eyes on me, I was done for."   
  
"It may seem hard to believe now," Ban smirked, "But at the time, being as I was only ten, I had an extreme distaste for company of the female sort. Ms. Durnham seemed to catch onto this instinctively, and proceeded to impose herself on me in every way possible. It started with giving me a full tour of their house, much to her mother's amusement, but it hardly stopped there.. oh no.. Before I knew it, the little beast was everywhere I went! She actually insisted to her father that I be brought to all of their meetings, and that's in addition to my required attendance whenever we received an invite to the Durnham's various social gatherings. I was suddenly 'Emily's little friend' and all of my friends mocked me for it! She made my life hell for a year and a half! After that, my father changed businesses and Mr. Durnham found his new commodity(2), well... distasteful... and their dealings came to an end, which freed me from her clutches. I can happily say I hadn't seen her since, until today. Of course, I knew she and Cornwallis were related, but I never thought she'd actually come here!" Tarleton's look was one of pure distress.   
  
Bordon and Tavington stared blankly at Ban in silence for a few moments, and before simultaneously bursting into raving fits of laughter. Tavington, in his tipsy state, managed to laugh himself right off the couch and onto the floor where he landed with a thud.   
  
Ban looked down at him disapprovingly, his expression both hurt and reproachful. "Alright, alright! Now that you two've had your little laugh at my expense, can we finish our planning for tomorrow?"   
  
Bordon patted Tarleton's shoulder apologetically and tried to suppress his grin, "Sorry, Ban, but you must admit it is quite funny. Are you really taking a little childhood grudge so seriously? I'm sure you have nothing to worry about her now... if there's a 'pack of wolves' in this house now, it's US!"   
  
Tavington collected himself off the floor, his own smile quickly dissolving. "Indeed... Let's finish preparing our hunt, shall we?"   
  
  
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Notes: _1) The real O'Hara was commandant of the British Africa Corp in Senegal for about 10 years before taking part in this war. While I haven't found any actual reference to suggest his acquiring an accent, he did speak the native language and I figure ten years of that might have tinged his already Irish accent._   
_2) Tarleton's father was in the slave trade. I don't know if he had any business before that, so my mention of him running an import company is purely fictional._   



	6. Stirring Up Old Ghosts

Author's Notes: _Wow, I've been hit by a sudden bombardment of reviews!! Since everyone's been clammoring for an update.. here it is!! See, if you review a story and prod the author to continue, it really can make a difference! Thanks to everyone who took the time to leave me a note about the story. I'm glad it's being enjoyed so far! For whomever requested more of Ban.. here you go! Trust me, he's not going anywhere. Expect to see quite a bit of him in this story._   
_On a side note- I've reformatted the first 5 chapters. Hopefully they look a bit better now. I'll try to update this one again soon. I'm also working on a Bordon-fic posted here, so I'm trying to split my time between the two._   
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**Chapter 6- Stirring Up Old Ghosts**

  
  
By the time they reached her room, Emily realized how tired she really was. Before departing, Lillian offered to have supper sent up for her, but Emily politely declined, citing her desire to rest and go to bed early. Mrs. Middleton smiled and told her breakfast would be at nine the next morning, then hurried off to make sure her husband hadn't discovered the business in the parlor downstairs.   
  
Emily closed the door softly and heaved a heavy sigh before turning to face the monstrous pile of her luggage, which had been heaped in the far corner of the room next to a door she assumed went to a closet. She was far too tired to deal with it at the moment though, and moved instead toward the wide bed in the room's center. It had a lovely floral quilt, and resting in the middle was her smaller carry-bag. Emily sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled the bag toward her, unfastening the small clasp and opening it wide. She started removing the items inside and setting them out on the bed next to her, so she could decide where to put things in the room. She pulled out a wide, soft bristled hairbrush, a small powder case and a few other personal items and put them off to one side before her hand rested on a large velvet pouch. She let her fingers linger on its soft, crimson surface a moment, feeling the chill beneath the fabric before she lifted it from the bag.   
  
The pouch was heavy. She set it on her lap and loosened the delicate strings that held the pouch pinched closed. Once they were loose enough, she gave the fabric a tug and it came open. Her hand slid inside and she wrapped her fingers around the cold, finely polished wooden grip, slowly withdrawing the pistol her father had presented her before she boarded the ship for her voyage to the Colonies. He'd waited until they were alone, not wanting Mrs. Durnham to know their 'little girl' might ever possibly need such a thing. He'd taken her aside while her mother saw to the loading of the baggage and shown her how to load and aim the gun... 'Just incase...'   
  
Emily raised the pistol in the dimming light from the window. A red glint from the sunset reflected off the metal barrel and she turned it in the light, examining as she had so many times during her sea-journey the engraved pattern that ran its length. The delicate swirls took on the shape of stylized roses that bristled with sharp thorns. 'Blood roses' her father had said. She liked the sound of it. A strange chill passed through her as she stared at them. She heard a metallic click and realized she'd unconsciously pulled back the pistol's hammer, locking it into place. Emily lowered the gun and pointed it at the last glint of sun visible through the window as it settled over the trees in the distance. Her finger tensed on the trigger and squeezed. The pistol's hammer came down with a loud snap, but nothing else happened. The gun was unloaded.   
  
Her voice came in a whisper as the sun winked out over the horizon and dusk settled in, "Got you."   
  
A sudden knock at the door caused her to jump and she quickly stuffed the pistol back in her travel bag before hurrying to the door. She turned the knob and opened it partially. The servant girl on the other side was a few years younger then Emily, with a strange olive tinge to her skin and pitch-black hair.   
  
"Sorry to disturb you, Miss, but Madame sent me up to light the candles for you." The girl raised a lit candle in a simple brass holder she clutched with both hands, the light from it flickering across her face and giving her a slightly eerie appearance.   
  
"Oh, thank you..." Emily nervously backed up, pulling the door open to admit the girl, who crossed the room quickly and proceeded to light several candles in various places around the room.   
  
"Madame also wanted me to tell you that if you need anything, I am at your service. My name is Francine." She smiled and bent to light the bedside candle, which was stubborn but sputtered to life after a few seconds, casting wobbling shadows around the items on the table. "I'm sure you're tired, so I'll get out of your way now. Would you like me to wake you in time for breakfast?"   
  
"No, I should be able to get up in time. Thank you though, Francine." Emily offered a small smile as the girl left and closed the door once more. Turning back to the room, it suddenly seemed like an entirely different place. The cheery floral prints and light, airy colors of the room became a dark, flickering jungle of unfamiliar objects and larger-than-life furniture. She shuddered and turned to the one point in the room that seemed non-threatening- the enormous stack of familiar luggage in the corner. Emily crossed the room and stood before the pile, going through the various sized pieces in her mind in an attempt to judge how much time it'd take to put everything away.   
  
Emily gripped a lumpy bag on the top of the heap and pulled it off, wrestling it to the top of a nearby bureau. Upon opening it she found the weight of the bag stemmed from a number of heavy, leather bound books, one of which she removed fondly and settled with on the bed. Thumbing through the well-worn pages, she found what she sought and opened the book wide so she could see the page in the candlelight. The familiar words there formed in a whisper on her lips as her eyes scanned them slowly, her eyelids growing heavy. 

_"From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,_

_Over the lit sea's unquiet way,_

_In the rustling night-air came the answer:_

_'Wouldst thou be as these are? Live as they.'"_(1)

  
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Emily stirred on the bed as the early-morning light began to creep in through the open window. Her eyes cracked open and she yawned, stretching her stiff frame. A loud thud noise suddenly brought her to her senses, as she realized her movements had caused the book she'd been reading the night before to slide off the bed and onto the floor. As she slid over and stretched to pick it up, her eyes caught on the light blue fabric running up her arm. Not only had she fallen asleep on top of the covers, she hadn't even changed for bed!   
  
All but one of the candles in the room had burned themselves out, leaving Emily feeling guilty for having wasted them. She started thinking of how she'd apologize to Mrs. Middleton as she sat up slowly and swung her feet to the floor, wondering what time it was. The morning sun was still low on the horizon, so she guessed it to be sometime after 7. Casting groggy glances around the room, her eyes caught on a small table clock near the window. It was 8:30. _'Only a half hour before I'm expected down for breakfast...'_   
  
Emily quickly stood and walked to her baggage, pulling bags off haphazardly in search of one that might contain clothes. After opening several and finding none, she kneeled by one of the larger chests and lifted the lid, relieved to find it contained several of her day-dresses.   
  
Emily shed the badly wrinkled blue dress she'd accidentally slept in and donned clean underthings before lifting a peach colored dress with cropped sleeves from the chest and putting it on. Surveying her appearance in the mirror, Emily quickly decided she looked like hell and went to the washbasin on the bureau, splashing some cold water on her face and forearms. After scrubbing the sleep out of her eyes she found the hairbrush she'd unpacked the night before, pulling it through her hair until she worked the tangles out, her chestnut tresses falling in waves over her shoulders. Emily dug around in the chest some more and found a small wooden box, which she opened and removed several hairpins. Returning to the mirror, she twisted her hair up onto the back of her head and secured it with a few of the pins, leaving a few strands hanging loose.   
  
Finally satisfied with her appearance, Emily put the brush back on the bureau and slipped silently out the door on her way to breakfast.   
  
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Downstairs in the dining room, Tavington massaged his temples and leaned his elbows on the table as one of the servants refilled his cup of tea. Nursing a terrible headache from drinking in the parlor the night before, he cast a biting glare at Tarleton who, despite consuming as much if not more of the bourbon, seemed completely free of its less fortunate aftereffects. Ban merely grinned and continued munching his food amiably, making occasional light comments to the servants who bustled in and out of the room on their morning routines.   
  
"So, where's Bordon?" Ban queried, stuffing another fork-full of egg into his grinning mouth.   
  
Tavington flinched, his teeth clenching painfully at the sound of his fellow officer's voice, "Christ, keep the volume down, you blighter! I sent him out to make sure the men were up and breaking camp. I know you prefer to let yours do whatever they damn-well please, but I prefer a little discipline in my command..."   
  
Ban mopped the last of the egg yolk off his plate with a bit of biscuit, a look of mock sorrow painting his face. "My, that's a low blow, Tav! I'm beginning to think you don't care for my company on these little missions of ours." He grinned and his eyebrow quirked roguishly, "But then, sometimes I forget that you're fully capable of winning this war entirely on your own, don't I? Forgive my youth and foolishness, dear sir."   
  
Tavington managed a slight grin and shook his head slowly, "I swear, Ban, your wit is far too much for me this early in the morning. If you're quite finished demolishing your breakfast, I strongly suggest you see to your own men. We've got to get out of here and on patrol within the hour and I don't want your rabble slowing us up."   
  
Ban rose from his seat in one fluid movement and bowed with a dramatic flourish. "Noted and as good as done, Colonel. My 'rabble' and I will be ready and waiting whenever you're set to go. Mind you don't slow us up yourself..."   
  
Ban stuck his tongue out and puffed his cheeks in an imitation of being sick, which prompted Tavington to snatch a biscuit off one of the nearby platters and hurl it in the green-coated Dragoon's direction. Tarleton anticipated the move and neatly sidestepped the edible projectile, flicking a quick salute to the grumbling Tavington before exiting the dining room with a jaunty step, his spurs jingling as his heavy boot soles thumped across the hardwood floor and out of sight.   
  
Tavington sipped his tea slowly in the silence that followed Ban's departure, thinking over the day that lie ahead. Scouts had brought word of a group of Continental stragglers in the area, separated from what was left of the Rebel army's main body during their retreat after the fall of Charlestown. Cornwallis' parting orders before setting out for Fort Carolina were for Tarleton's command, the British Legion- a mixture of infantry and dragoons, and Tavington's group of dragoons to intercept the group and eliminate them before they could cross the river and reunite with the rest of the retreating Continental force.   
  
Intelligence reported that the stragglers were unable to move with any considerable speed, as they were heavily burdened with wounded. Catching up to them should be a simple enough matter.   
  
The Colonel drained the last of the liquid in his cup and set it back down on its saucer before rising from his seat. Thankfully the effects of his hangover had reduced somewhat, but the dull headache still lingered. Tea always seemed to help after a night of heavy drinking.   
  
Tavington silently cursed Ban for his inhuman tolerance for alcohol. Such fortitudes really were wasted on the young.   
  
After retrieving his helmet and gloves from the chair at his side, he started for the door with quick strides and began ticking through his mental checklist for the upcoming patrol.   
  
Upon rounding the corner he collided roughly with a small form headed into the dining room. Emily cried out at the impact and stumbled before losing her balance and falling backward, hitting the floor with a thump. Tavington, somewhat dazed by the speed with which it all happened, stared down at her blankly.   
  
"Why, Miss Durnham... a bit hurried this morning, are we?"   
  
Emily sputtered angrily and quickly tried to straighten her dress, which had heaped and twisted itself about her legs in a most undignified manner. Tavington grinned at her obvious discomfort.   
  
"You... you devil! Why don't you watch where you're going?" Emily struggled to get up but got snagged in her skirts and floundered.   
  
Tavington rolled his eyes and slowly offered her a hand. She glared stubbornly and batted it away, making another attempt to get up on her own. Almost instantly a hand seized her roughly by the arm and yanked her from the floor. Emily gasped.   
  
"Never strike me again, you spoiled little witch!" Tavington's voice hissed fiercely in her ear, his breath hot on the side of her neck as she twisted in his grasp.   
  
"Your uncle may be in command here but you, my dear, are not! I'll be damned if I'll allow a woman to hold dominion over me!"   
  
He firmly shoved Emily away and released her arm, fixing her with an angry glare. Emily trembled silently, sparks of mixed anger and fear dancing in her eyes.   
  
"Forgive me, Colonel," Emily's voice was shaky and hesitant. "I should not have snapped at you in that way."   
  
Tavington's expression chilled as the anger in his eyes began to fade slowly, his mouth twisting into a cold sneer.   
  
"Quite right, Miss Durnham. Now, as much as I'm enjoying this quaint little conversation, I have to be going." He brushed past her quickly and headed through the parlor toward the front foyer.   
  
"Are you going on patrol, Colonel?" Emily called after him, quickly regaining her composure. Tavington stopped suddenly but did not turn back toward her.   
  
"How do you know that?"   
  
"I saw a number of men outside as I passed one of the windows on the way from my room. Some of them had uniforms like yours..."   
  
Tavington was silent a moment.   
  
"Quite perceptive of you, Miss Durnham. Yes, my dragoons and I have been ordered to track down some Rebel stragglers." He began walking again but Emily's voice chimed out behind him once more.   
  
"Good luck to you, Colonel Tavington."   
  
Tavington halted. There was no malice in her voice. Emily stared at his motionless back silhouetted in the doorway, waiting for some kind of sharp response, but none came. Only the loud workings of Mrs. Middleton's hall clock and the sound of the Colonel's boots on the wooden floor as he quickly left.   
  
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The Rebels had been exactly where the scouts indicated.   
  
Tavington watched the confused rabble of blue-coated soldiers scramble in disarray as the Legion infantry pursued them across the field. The wagons full of wounded had been abandoned as soon as Tavington and Tarleton's combined force sprang upon them, the surprised Continentals grabbing whatever weapons lay nearby in an effort to defend themselves against the sudden attack.   
  
A handful of the American rebels managed to take up positions around a few battered field canon, struggling to bring the heavy guns to bear on the British infantry that flooded into their camp. Others simply ran and were promptly pursued and cut down by Ban's dragoons. Tavington hung back with his own men, waiting for the perfect opportunity.   
  
The battle was done almost as soon as it began. Tavington urged his horse slowly across the field littered with Rebel dead and wounded. Occasionally cries of pain rang out below him as the hooves of the huge dragoon mount pressed heavily on the arm or leg of a Continental that was not quite dead. He ignored the sound and surveyed his own troops positioning on and around the field as they pursued the last few fleeing Rebels. They seemed to be headed in the general direction of a large plantation house nearby.   
  
Withdrawing his field glass from a pouch on the side of his saddle, Colonel Tavington brought the lens up to eye and examined the house from a distance. The plantation had a large barn and several small outlying slave quarters, while the house itself was a two-story construction with a wide porch. Squinting through the telescope he could make out several figures standing on the porch. It appeared to be a man and several children.   
  
Bordon noticed his commander's scrutiny of the house and pulled his horse beside Tavington's.   
  
"What is it, sir?"   
  
Tavington lowered the field glass and returned it to its pouch.   
  
"Rebel sympathizers. I think it's time we made an example for the locals that support and assistance to these damned Continentals will not be tolerated." The Colonel seemed pleased by the idea, a sinister grin creeping across his face. "Get the dragoons together. We're going to have a few words with that farmer."   
  
  
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Notes: 1) _This is a snippet from Matthew Arnold's poem "Self Dependence". It was actually written in 1852, so forgive my little time warp in having it as part of a pre-1780 book._


	7. Path of the Righteous

Author's Notes: _Sorry I took a while to get this one posted- got caught up in Christmas break and.. EXAMS! ACK! This chapter contains a few little exerpts from the movie, which I've denoted in bracketed italics._   
  
_To Angelika- thanks for your kind words! Forgive me if I side-step your question concerning where Em's feelings are headed.. I wouldnt want to ruin anything! Lets just say.. things are going to get a little complicated. Everything will be answered soon enough! To all my other reviewers- Love you guys!! I'm sorry I make you suffer so with my slow updates! It's hard trying to maintain two stories at once, sadly, and more often than not both end up sorely neglected! For anyone who cares, the next chapter on my Bordon fic is coming very soon! Thanks for letting me know what you think!_   
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**Chapter 7- Path of the Righteous**

  
  
He could still see it. Lying awake in his bed that night, back at the Middleton house, Frederick Bordon squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried not to think about the day's events.   
  
It'd started well enough. Their mission had been successful- marvelously so. Efficient, quick business, just as Bordon preferred things. All the details in perfect order. All except one. The bloody mess at that damned farm.   
  
Bordon pulled the pillow over his head as the sounds and images came flickering back. Screams, pleas for mercy... **_'no.. NO! Don't! PLEASE! For Christ's sake!'_**... The explosion of muskets, thick red blood spattering on the white railing and wooden floor planks of the porch, children screaming.   
  
Bordon had not intervened. The cold logic of military training told him that Tavington's order was a sound one, strategically. This war was not going to end as quickly as they had once hoped. There'd been far too many wounded strewn across the farmhouse porch for the dragoons to take prisoner, and leaving them alive would have simply invited escape, return to the war.   
  
Those men, once healed, could be back in the field and killing British soldiers.   
  
Bordon's first reaction was to convince himself that in ordering the taking those men's lives, Tavington was simply helping to preserve the lives of his own men in the future. He trusted his commander's judgement. He had to.   
  
And then there'd been the boy...   
  
_["Oh, I see.. He's your son." Tavington sneered with pleasure as a look of panic crossed the farmer's face. "Well... perhaps you should have taught him something of loyalty."]_   
  
'Yes, if only he had.. What do they think they're fighting for, anyway?' Bordon frowned. He gripped the top hem of his blanket and pulled it up to his chin, his fists knotted tightly on the fabric. 'To throw away all sense of duty to your country.. to your true origins.. why, you may as well admit to having lost every scrap of human dignity! The father must have impressed such deviance on his children... damn these backward colonists!'   
  
Bordon's frown deepened and he turned roughly onto his side. He truly believed in duty above all else.. but no, there was more to it than that in this case. The actions of the boy had nothing to do with politics or commerce...   
  
_["We're not going to hold him.. we're going to hang him." Tavington's eyebrow quirked challengingly._   
  
_The farmer was quick to protest as his eldest son was bound at the wrists and led away. "Sir, the rules of war.."_   
  
_"Would you like a lesson, sir, in **the rules of war**?" Tavington snapped as he raised his pistol, pointing it swiftly at the man. The farmer starred blankly down the barrel of the dragoon commander's gun, a reaction Tavington obviously found unsatisfactory._

_"Or perhaps... your children would?" His aim rapidly changed to the group of young children clutching fearfully at one another nearby. The farmer's face instantly lit with panic as he sprang to shield them with his own body._   
  
_"N-n-no lesson is necessary, Colonel," he stammered, hands upheld defensively._   
  
_Having received the desired reaction at last, Tavington seemed to lose interest. He turned to the young Lieutenant in charge of the Legion infantry group that'd first arrived on the scene. No sooner had the Lieutenant moved to follow Tavington's order to take the farmer's rebel spy son to the nearby outpost at Camden than the boy sprang at them._   
  
_Tavington never hesitated. In one fluid movement he raised his pistol and fired a single shot into the boy's back. The family erupted in screams as the boy dropped. Bordon's open-mouthed stare and hand raised quickly in silent protest were ignored, as were the sharp and confused glances Tavington's men shot one another as they came to grasp what their commander had just done._   
  
_Tavington's lip curled. "Stupid boy.."]_   
  
Yes, he'd been stupid. And now Bordon and his conscience were paying the price.   
  
'What was that damned child thinking? Of saving his brother, obviously, but what.. did he actually think he'd succeed? Honestly? Pathetic youthful foolishness!' Bordon cringed inwardly as memories of his own youthful failures flooded over him. Yes.. hadn't he also tried to save someone and failed? But unlike the farmboy, he'd survived.. survived to regret it daily. Perhaps the boy was better off...   
  
Bordon felt his guilt begin to subside. Whatever that day's events, they were done with now and there was nothing he could do about any of it. The whole mess was just another drop of unpleasantness in the sea of war they were already drowning in.   
  
A warm, humid breeze blew in through the small open window of his room, bringing with it a faint smell of Mrs. Middleton's garden. The tenseness in his back and shoulders slowly melted away. Bordon sighed in resignation. Dwelling on it would do no good, and time for sleep was short. As they'd parted after securing their mounts in stables, Tavington had not wasted the opportunity to remind him of that fact. The smirk he'd adopted in doing so made Bordon's skin crawl. _'Don't forget, Bordon.. church services in the morning. Mind you're not late..'_   
  
-------------------   
  
Emily struggled to stifle a huge yawn as she made her way down the stairs from her room. She was in no particular hurry to get about with the day's activities as, really, there wasn't much planned. Since the departure of the Legion and dragoons, things around the Middleton house had been extremely quiet. If there was anything Emily hated, it was quiet. Quiet and boredom were a dangerous mixture for her, as more often than not her attempts to escape them led to trouble.   
  
Yes, as she reached the bottom of the stairs and neared the parlor window, she quickly realized that it was definitely going to be one of those days. The army camp in the estate's east field was bustling with activity of the sort she hadn't seen since the day of her arrival. A mischievous grin slowly crept across Emily's face. The dragoons had returned in the night.   
  
It was still early and Emily doubted very much if Mrs. Middleton was up yet. Since arriving at Middleton Place she'd spent most of her time in the company of the kind loyalist woman, who she found reminded her very much of her own mother. Emily had originally planned on finding some way to occupy herself until Lily awoke so that they could eat the morning meal together in the drawing room, but the hungry rumble that eminated from her stomach suddenly coupled with her eager curiosity at the dragoon's return sent her scampering in the direction of the house kitchens. Surely Francine would be awake and taking her own breakfast there, and Emily guessed she could grab something quick before investigating the activity outside.   
  
"Francine? Would you mind seeing to.." her voice trailed off as she swept into the kitchen, only to find it empty. Very strange indeed! Emily stood a moment, her eyes sweeping over the wooden countertops, which were covered with a significant amount of crumbs, leading her to assume they had been used since the preparation of dinner the night before. But where was everyone?   
  
Emily shrugged and moved toward the breadbox. The thought of it! Preparing her own breakfast! _Ah well.._, she thought, _I'll just grab something small and head outside. There must be something going on to explain how it could be so terribly quiet here in the house.. Lily runs a tight ship- there's no way the servants could have merely overslept!_   
  
Carefully lifting the lid on the breadbox she removed a small fresh loaf and set it on the counter before reaching for one of the knives hanging on the wall. Bread was hardly what she'd normally call sufficient breakfast fare, but being as she was on her own to find something it'd have to do. Besides, at least it was something she could eat on the run.   
  
Emily carefully slid the sharp knife through the loaf of bread, cutting herself a large slice. As she did, a loud thundering on the stairs leading from the second floor quarters to the kitchen caused her to jump and she just missed her hand with the sharpened blade.   
  
Quickly dropping the knife she turned toward the sound and was met by the form of a much-hurried Captain Bordon. He was still pulling his uniform jacket on as he descended the stairs in an obvious rush, a look of fearful worry painted across his features.   
  
"Captain Bordon!"   
  
"What?" Bordon faltered in his mad dash for the side-door out of the kitchen. "OH! Excuse me, Miss Durnham! I'm afraid I overslept a bit. Late for services! I hope you wont think it rude of me, but I really must be going!"   
  
"Services? Oh, it's Sunday, isn't it! I'd completely lost track of the days! May I join you, Captain?"   
  
"Yes, you're most welcome to, Miss! In all honesty you'd be doing me a great service.."   
  
Emily grinned and snatched her breakfast off the counter before quickly crossing the kitchen to join him at the side-door.   
  
"I am quite happy to do so, Captain. If that rude Colonel of yours gives you any trouble for being late, please tell him it was because I demanded your company on a whim and would positively not let you go. And then I insisted on accompanying you to services as well! He already believes me to be a complete brat, so I'm sure you'll have no problems getting by on that story."   
  
Emily winked conspiratorially and linked her arm quickly through Bordon's before shoving the door open with her free hand and leading the blushing Captain into the yard.   
  
  
  
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Notes: **LEGAL STUFF**- Yes, I've used bits of the actual movie dialog here. I dont own the rights to that, blah blah blah, if you're connect to whoever does please dont sue me, etc. ^_^   
  
_Appologies that this part is a little short. The next scene is really long and significant, so this seemed like the only place I could cut this chapter off without breaking the next part up awkwardly. I'll try not to leave you hanging too long!_


	8. Chess on a Sunday

Author's Note: _Even after an entire year of neglecting this story, it seems I still have readers! Thank you so much to everyone that's reviewed and emailed me, prompting me to pick it up again. It's because of you that this new chapter exists! As I sat down to work on it for the first time in ages, it came to my attention that the time frame so far is a little unclear. To straighten things out, Em arrived on Tuesday afternoon, and C set out for the fort that same day. The dragoons left on patrol the next morning and returned late saturday night. C is due back wednesday, and this chapter picks up where I left off sunday morning. Thanks again and enjoy the new chapter!!_  
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**Chapter 8- Chess on a Sunday**

Out on the lawn services had already begun. Emily looked out over the sea of men from her place on the porch, experiencing a moment of awe. Nearly half of the army stationed at Middleton Place was there, sitting in tightly bunched groups on the dewy grass, straining to hear the army chaplain as he bellowed out over the restless congregation. 

Following Bordon's lead, the pair stepped off the porch and worked their way around the edge of the assembly toward the front, where a section had apparently been reserved for officers. A handful of Mrs. Middleton's wooden chairs had been pulled from the porch and were now occupied by General O'Hara and the other senior officers. As they neared, O'Hara looked up and smiled.

"Ah, miss Durnham! How are we this morning? I trust your night passed well?" O'Hara spoke in a hushed tone as he quickly stood and bowed with a flourish, offering the young woman his chair.

Emily beamed at the gesture. "Quite well, General, thank you. I hope you don't mind my intrusion upon your services this morning. I'm afraid my curiosity got the best of me."

"You are more than welcome, miss. I'm pleased you could join us!" O'Hara accepted a new chair carried over by another of his staff and placed it next to Emily's while Bordon settled himself on the grass nearby.

They quieted once more and listened as the service continued. The subject of the sermon was a dry passage from Colossians, and it wasn't long before Emily found her mind wandering. She took the opportunity to survey the vast assembly of men and officers. Most of the soldiers, like her, seemed bored to their wits end and stared into space, fiddling absently with blades of grass or conducting whispered conversations with their neighbors.

The officers on the other hand made every attempt to appear interested and attentive so as to set a good example, sitting silently with eyes resolutely fixed upon the chaplain. Bordon seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed in a rather serious manner. Emily quirked an eyebrow and looked down the rest of the front row, absently wondering if Colonel Tavington bothered to show up. Finally she spotted him- at the far end of the congregation sitting at the base of a tree, well distanced from his fellow officers. Unlike the others, he made no attempt to concern himself with the observance and was quite focused on the process of cleaning a pistol.

_'Honestly, bringing a gun to church?'_ Emily scowled and bit her lip. The man truly was infuriating! She watched as another officer joined him by the tree and casually sat down with a flop. He was considerably shorter than Tavington, his hair glinting red in the morning sun. Emily squinted. There was something familiar about him... Slowly but surely her scowl turned into an all-out gape.

"Surely not..."

"Miss?"

Bordon tapped her shoulder gently and Emily was suddenly aware that the service had ended and the men were getting up to leave. She accepted his offered hand and rose from the chair quickly, but by the time she glanced back toward the tree, Tavington and his strange companion were gone.

------------------------------

Tarleton whistled cheerfully on his way back up to the house, Tavington treading silently at his side.

Since returning from patrol the night before, neither had spoken on the matter- but there was nothing unusual about that. Tavington had a habit of claming up after patrols and Tarleton was growing accustomed to his comrade's quirks.

"So, Tav.. finished your report yet?" Tarleton pulled a red apple out of a pocket in his coat and bit into it noisily.

Tavington glared. "Yes, I have. I would ask you the same question, but I think I very well know the answer already."

Tarleton grinned mischievously, "Why Colonel, you're smarter than you look!"

"And you're not. Is it any wonder we work so well together?" Tavington beamed triumphantly as Tarleton's smirk twisted into a childish pout. Neither noticed the sound of swiftly approaching feet closing in behind them, pattering softly across the grass and nearly inaudible over the normal day-time commotion of the camp.

"Excuse me.. Sirs?"

Both officers turned to the female voice as Emily completed her dash across the lawn and came to a stop in front of the startled men, flushed and gasping as she attempted to catch her breath through the suffocating tightness of her corset. Bordon trotted up closely behind her, shooting a pointed look to his fellow officers, which only Tavington noticed. Tarleton's eyes were fixed on the young woman in front of them, his face pale as a sheet as he made every attempt to appear calm and aloof.

Tavington smiled icily. "Why Ms. Durnham.. to what honor do we have the pleasure of your company this fine morning?"

"The pleasure is entirely mine, Colonel. I have no wish to impose upon your obviously valuable time unnecessarily, and was merely hoping I might have a word with your companion here-"

She gestured to Tarleton, whilst fixing an equally cold expression on her face, tinged with a hint of self-satisfaction as Tavington's false smile melted. Without pausing, she quickly turned toward Tarleton.

"I do hope you will pardon my forwardness, but I couldn't help noticing you bear a strong resemblance to someone I was acquainted with many years ago..." Emily donned her best society-smile. "But first, I suppose I should introduce myself! My name is Emily.. Emily Durnham.. And you, if my recollection serves me, are Banastre Tarleton- correct?"

Tarleton smiled sweetly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, miss, but I'm afraid you're mistaken- I know of the gentleman you seek, but alas- am not him. Though I must say, I quite wish I were- I hear Ban Tarleton has quite a way with the ladies!" Sweet smile quickly changed to roguish smirk as he dipped into a low bow. "My name, on the other hand, is George Hanger. I do hope you aren't too terribly disappointed?"

"Ah, I see.." Emily allowed a tiny sigh before her smile returned, beamingly. "I do appologise then, Mister Hanger, for interrupting your conversation. I'm sure you gentlemen must be quite busy with so much activity going on here. Why it's almost enough to make my head spin! On that note, if you will be kind enough to excuse me, I think I'd best return to the house.. Good day to you, Mister Hanger.. and you, Colonel Tavington."

She fixed Tavington with a victorious glance before bobbing politely and turning toward back up the wide lawn and onto the front path leading up to the great manor. Bordon smiled at Tarleton, raising his eyebrow and shaking his head in amused disbelief before silently following in Emily's wake. Tavington's angry gaze followed their progress a moment before the sound of Tarleton's self-satisfied chuckle drew his attention.

"By God, has she ever grown up!" Ban's tone was carefully hushed but no less pointed.

"Grown into what, exactly, is the question. Vile little beast."

"Vile? Look at her! I think you must be spending too much time around the camp followers if you can't appreciate a nice little flower like that." Tarleton winked.

"Ha! Look who's talking, 'Hanger'... Besides which, she obviously isn't particularly bright if she believes that little act you just put on."

Tarletonfrowned and puffed up defensively. "Why, that's a mighty low-blow, Tav.. you know the pride I take in my glorious acting ability!"

"Perhaps, but then all blowswould have to be rather low on you now, wouldn't they?"Tavington looked down at his diminutive compatriot with an imperious smirk.

"Ah, too right..."

Emily paused behind the first of many bushes that lined the garden path and watched the pair of officers continue on their way, talking amongst themselves. _'Honestly...'_ she thought, her grin turning mischevious.

"Miss?" Bordon paused as well but Emily paid him no mind, her attention focused.

Gathering in as deep a breath as her restrictive clothing would allow she peeked around the bush and shouted.

**"BANANA!"**

The outburst drew a number of curious looks, as was to be expected, but Tarleton nearly jumped clear out of his boots. Emily ducked back behind the garden shrubs as the startled officer turned, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Bordon sprang behind the bush as well and out of view and swallowed audibly before turning his attention back to Emily, who was by now well involved in a fit of heavy giggles. It was infectious and within a moment Bordon was chuckling as well.


End file.
